


The Sword

by Jathis



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: Based on the prompt: a mother holds her lost child’s favorite toy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	The Sword

She was always so tired. Moving around was hard for her. Her form was big and bulky and she was all too aware of how much noise she made with each shuffling movement forward. If she could not move and she could not sing with her husband, then Madame de Garderobe felt that sleeping was best for her.

It was Lumiere who had found it. The candelabra sometimes wandered through the empty bedrooms, looking through the items left to rot and collect dust and cobwebs. He had known right away what it was and he had taken it carefully to the wardrobe as Plumette used her feathers to wake the former soprano up.

“What is it?” she yawned.

“We thought you would want to have this, madame,” Plumette said before fluttering down beside Lumiere.

“Want what?” she asked. She looked at what Lumiere held up and her eyes would have filled with tears if she still had them. “Oh…” she whispered, her voice strained and full of pain. She knew who had owned the toy wooden sword Lumiere held in his unlit arms. “I...please, bring it to me?” she asked.

“Of course,” Lumiere said. He handed it to Plumette and she carefully flew up high enough that the wardrobe could take it from her.

“...Grazie. Posso stare da sola?” The feather duster and candelabra left her alone, the door clicking closed behind them. “...my beautiful baby…” she whispered.

She remembered how happy Stanley had been when given the toy sword by Cogsworth for their birthday. The Englishman had even promised to teach them proper swordsmanship when they were older. He said that they had the makings of a swordsman one day with enough practice. Stanley had looked up at the man with wide eyes, awed and elated at the very idea of such a thing.

“My beautiful lost baby,” she whispered. She opened one of her drawers, moving some fabrics and materials out of the way before putting it inside and shutting it. “Are you happy where you are? Are you safe? Are you..?”

She had been awake longer than usual this time. Sleep pulled her down once more. Darkness and dreams were soon swirling in her head and once again Madame de Garderobe was asleep.

***

She watched from the side as her now adult child practiced their swordsmanship with a dummy. The two were out in the garden, enjoying the sunshine. They swung the weapon in graceful arcs, body and posture following through with each movement. Their face was full of seriousness and concentration.

She had known it was them that day during the raid, a mother always knows her baby. He had been holding a sword then too, albeit to attack and destroy that time. Their face had been twisted and contorted in anger and it had been so beautiful when the dress and makeup brought that smile back to their face.

“Maman? Maman, stai bene?” Stanley asked in a mixture of French and Italian. They lowered their sword, holding it at their side as they looked at her with concern.

“Hm?”

“You’re crying, maman,” Stanley said.

She blinked, reaching up to touch just under her eye. Her fingers came away wet. “I didn’t realize,” she said.

Stanley sheathed their sword and walked over to their mother, taking her gently by the arm and guiding her to sit down on one of the benches in the garden. “Are you hurt? Do you need something?” they asked.

She looked up into her child’s worried face and she laughed. She reached up to stroke a stubble covered cheek, cooing in reassurance. “I’m okay,” she said. Stanley looked unconvinced of this and she pulled them down to press a kiss to their forehead, leaving a golden lipstick imprint behind. “I promise,” she told them.


End file.
